Signals
by OtterAndHyena
Summary: In which Hermione decides it's about time Fred sees her as a grown woman. One-shot. Probably.


"Oh, he kisses me. And they're lovely kisses," Hermione said with a soft smile. "Gentle and melting and very romantic. He has this way of holding my face..."

"We are talking about Fred _Weasley_ , right?" Ginny asked skeptically. "My brother?"

"That's the one."

"Huh. Not what I would have expected from him. Not that I think about my brothers kissing people much."

Hermione chuckled. "I know, I wouldn't come to you if I weren't desperate. As lovely as those moments are, I'm ready for _more_. But he treats me like...like he thinks I'll break if he gets even a little more passionate. What should I do?"

Ginny pursed her lips in thought. Hermione waited.

"I'll bet it's linked to him knowing you since you were 11," Ginny said at last. "Harry and I had to get over the same hang-up – on his side, not mine."

"You're saying Fred still sees me as a child?" Hermione asked in horror.

"Sort of. It's like he's attracted to you now, but he has this image of you from when you were young and the two are mixing up in his head until he's not sure how he feels about you. Add in the fact that Fred is a big brother plus everything that happened during the war, and I'll bet he's really confused. Harry said it was 'conflicting'," Ginny said.

"How did you get him past it?" Hermione asked.

"I had to get him to see me as a woman, not a little girl. As a sexual being." Ginny waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione's cheeks reddened. "I'm afraid to ask..."

"Strip tease," Ginny said with a grin.

"What? Ginny!"

"Yep, one night at Grimmauld Place. A little music, a little wine, and a very little black dress."

Hermione gulped. "I'm not sure..."

"Don't worry, you probably won't need to go quite that far. Harry's a bit thick in the romance department sometimes, but I think Fred will respond to something more subtle. You just have to get him to start thinking about you and sex, together."

"You think so?"

"I know so. By the way, I'm pretty sure Fred has a librarian or headmistress fantasy. His type always does," Ginny said with a twinkle in her eye.

Now it was Hermione's turn to purse her lips in thought. Then a wicked grin spread across her face.

"I have an idea."

"I thought you might," said Ginny with an approving nod. "My brother won't know what hit him."

It was Friday night. Hermione had plotted and planned for three days, then went through an agonizing day of second thoughts and self-doubt before summoning all of her Gryffindor courage and setting her plan in motion. Tonight was the perfect opportunity to change how Fred looked at her. Packing up her work papers, Hermione took a deep breath and took the floo to Diagon Alley.

A few minutes after 6:00, a frazzled Hermione burst through the door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in a whirl of robes and energy.

"'Lo, Hermione!" George called from the register. He had a queue waiting to pay which played into Hermione's plan perfectly.

"George! I'm in a rush and need some help. Is Fred here?"

Fred poked his head around a display of fireworks, a look of concern on his face. "I'm here, love. What's going on? Are you in trouble?"

"Yes. No. Sort of. I have that hen party tonight, at a Muggle club, remember? For my colleague, Cynthia. I haven't got a gift yet and I don't have time to do that and go home to change before I'm supposed to meet everyone at the apparition point in -" Hermione checked the slim gold watch on her wrist. "Merlin! In 9 minutes!"

"Yikes! OK, so you want to use our flat to freshen up? I can run over to...um, where would I go to get the gift?" Fred asked.

"Here, of course," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Here?" Fred asked, tilting his head and squinting at her.

"Fred, I know you have an adult product line."

He stammered and blushed, throwing a look toward his twin in a silent plea for help. George ignored him in favor of ringing up customers.

"Fred, I do not have time for your maidenly swooning. Take me back there so I can pick something out, then I'll do...something with what I have on to make it appropriate for a Muggle club," Hermione said, gesturing to her attire.

"Maidenly swooning! Oy! Alright, come on through to the back," Fred said. He held the door open and placed a gentle hand on Hermione's back. They walked down a short hallway until they reached a black curtain. Fred pulled it back and ushered Hermione into the space set aside for WWW's adult products.

Hermione's eyes widened. _Oh my._ She bit her lip as she perused the shelves filled with bottles and boxes and bags advertising everything from love potions to role playing outfits to x-rated Patented Daydream Charms. She ran her fingers over one of the charms, picking it up to read the label.

"Um..." Fred cleared his throat, his ears turning pink. "That might be defeating the purpose for a couple. It's meant for one person to use."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. "Is it? Hmmm..." She continued to read the description on the back, outlining a lurid fantasy involving a pirate and a deserted island.

"I thought you were short on time," Fred said through gritted teeth. Hermione grinned as she replaced the charm.

"Right, yes. So what do you suggest for the bride and groom?"

Fred cleared his throat again. "Ahem. Um. Well, the edible massage oils are big sellers. They come in lots of flavors and they're formulated with a low-dosage of lust potion as well as revitalization potion to ensure...er...an extended evening." Fred's ears were turning red again.

"Wow, that's impressive," Hermione said in genuine admiration. "I wonder what flavor I should get. I would prefer strawberry myself, but I think Cynthia prefers citrus flavors. Or chocolate. Or vanilla. Oh, why didn't I pay attention to what she eats at lunch?"

Trying not to react to Hermione's casual mention of her preference, Fred reverted to sales mode. "You could always give her an assortment of flavors. We do that a lot, too. A box of four or five oils ought to last them through the honeymoon."

"Perfect!" Hermione chose a few different flavors and handed them to Fred. "Would you wrap them for me and ring up my order? I still have 4 minutes to do something with this outfit."

Hermione pulled off her work robe and Fred's mouth went dry. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that showed off her curves, a crisp white button down shirt, black silk stockings, and a pair of black heels that were perfectly respectable for work yet elevated the whole ensemble into something downright sexy.

Hiding a smile, Hermione looked down at her skirt and started to wave her wand. "Right, if I shorten this a few inches..." The hem of the skirt started to rise until her garters and the tops of her stockings peeked out. "Oops, too short!" She quickly lengthened the skirt by two inches until the hem rested about four inches above her knee.

Hermione stole a look at Fred from beneath her lashes. He stood, frozen, holding her robe and the small bottles of massage oil, staring at her legs. His heated gaze watched as she added an inch to each heel of her shoes, making her legs appear even longer.

"Now, what about this shirt," Hermione muttered. Fred's gaze snapped up to her chest. "Oh, I know!" Hermione quickly but gracefully unbuttoned her shirt, exposing the silky white camisole she'd worn with this moment in mind. Her lacy black bra peeked around the edges as she neatly folded her shirt, shrank it, and placed it in her purse. She charmed the camisole to a deep green that made her skin glow and her eyes sparkle.

Fred still hadn't moved.

"Almost..." Hermione reached into her purse and pulled out a compact and lip gloss. She pulled the pins out of her hair to let down her neat French twist, her chestnut curls tumbling around her shoulders. A quick swipe of her favorite wine red lip gloss and cursory check in her compact mirror told her that she looked nothing like the child Fred met all those years ago.

"That should do it," Hermione said gaily. "Fred? Were you going to ring those up for me?"

"Mmmph," Fred answered. Hermione smirked. Fred cleared his throat. Then cleared it again. "Ah...yes. Ring these up. Cash register's in the front. We'll have to go to the front."

Hermione chuckled to herself. Oh yes, this plan had worked beautifully. She walked ahead of Fred, swaying her hips gently. When they came through the door to the main part of the shop, George glanced over and let out a low whistle.

"Wow! Hermione, you look spectacular! Which of our products did you use?"

Hermione laughed. "Not a single thing, George Weasley. This is all me."

"It sure is," George replied, giving her a long once-over before glancing at his twin who seemed to be in a daze. "Fred? Why are you holding massage oils?"

Fred gave himself a shake. "Right. Hermione needs these wrapped for the hen party. And stop staring," he added under his breath.

George grinned at his brother while he rang up the order and wrapped it in a signature WWW box, blazing maroon and orange.

"Here you are, madame," George said as he handed the package to Hermione with a courtly bow. "Feel free to come back and peruse our selection again. Maybe you'll find something for your own use," he said with a wink.

Hermione blushed lightly as she winked back. "Maybe I will."

She gave Fred a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a glossy lip print. She'd turned to leave when Fred called her back.

"Hermione, you can't walk around like that!"

"I beg your pardon?" she asked with a hint of steeliness in her tone.

"You'll catch your death. You need your robes."

"Oh, right. Except I can't wear my robes in Muggle London," Hermione said thoughtfully as she took the garment from Fred. With a wave of her wand, she transfigured it into a black trench coat. Cinching the belt around her waist, she picked up her purse and her package.

"Thanks guys! I owe you one!" The chimes on the door tinkled as she exited with one minute to spare.

George immediately turned to Fred. "What, in Merlin's name, happened back there?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Fred answered, raising his hand to his cheek where Hermione had kissed him. "She walked in looking like she'd stepped out of one of my sexy librarian fantasies, then transformed herself into some sort of...of...other fantasy," Fred said lamely.

"Gred, I think your girlfriend is sending you a signal," George said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "And if I were you, I would answer. Quickly."


End file.
